


Eclosion

by IvyLili



Category: Cultist Simulator (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26192710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyLili/pseuds/IvyLili
Summary: Heart+Heart=Winter
Kudos: 7





	Eclosion

**Author's Note:**

> The English version of https://archiveofourown.org/works/26192728

She never expected to see that name again. The last letter sent from that address on the continent had been torn to pieces and thrown into the fire long ago.

That lofty, pretentious old snob urged her in that letter to marry into a decent family – “with all due respect, _Fräulein_ , your current occupation would not provide enough support to your ongoing research. You will have to improve your financial status and make your life more stable…”

_So you mean that people are still divided by classes then, even in the face of that world beneath waking life? And only those born with silver spoons in their mouths and have the privilege to entertain themselves with occult studies are qualified of an eternal place before the gods?_

She made up her mind that she would never again try to exchange her writing for money from whatever that confraternity might be. Let that delicate noble scholar stay in his warm study, she will walk her own way from now on.

A white bird rose from her open mouth and faded into the dark, moonless night. She bowed to the empty auditorium, turned around and left the stage.

She glanced absent-mindedly through an evening paper on the dressing table as she wiped the dried and hardened paint from her skin. It was not the newspaper of that day; someone had put it there as a table cover under those cans of rouge, powder and paint. The news was no longer new when the printed words reached her eyes, yet she could still feel the feather in her throat, and the pale bird does not forget.

She read of a disaster fallen somewhere far away, of the fearless sacrifice of someone erudite and kind. It took her a while to relate those words with the letters she received in the past.

The one who once slighted her is gone, and she herself is getting closer and closer to the Hour's endless rhythm.

The bitterness of that feather, however, still lingered in her throat.


End file.
